Monday, June 8, 2009
Andy Warhol quipped that he had "social disease." "I go to openings. I'll go to the opening of anything, even a toilet seat."
When the sun went down on the dandyland gardens, I brought lawn chairs out beyond the rose hedge so that Cebah and I could watch the Evening Primrose opening. Just as twilight arrives they give a sudden little audible pop and the petals unfurl. It is much, much better than television. Not that that's saying much. It is exquisitely suspenseful and very entertaining, and lovely.
My cousin Barbara gave me the plants a couple of years ago, and they're just now getting big enough to bloom. So far there have only been two openings, one last night, and one tonight, but later this summer there will be dozens each evening. The show's going to get more eventful.
The writer and historian Wilma Dykeman, (now departed) was a friend. Not only did I adore her ever curious mind and personality, but she was the only person I've ever known who wore primrose yellow powder makeup, just a light dusting, along with yellow clothes and hats that made her blondness spectacular. She once slipped off from a fairly droll social gathering we were at, whispering in my ear as she said her goodbyes that she had to be out of there, it was almost twilight and she was going to a primrose opening.
I feel sorry for Andy sometimes, but I suppose I shouldn't.